


Thursday Morning

by kkingofthebeach



Series: That one band AU [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:38:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkingofthebeach/pseuds/kkingofthebeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because dean really likes waking up to cas, it does not mean they’re dating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> THIS SERIES HAS BEEN UPLOADED IN MORE COMPLETE VERSION OVER HERE: [That Band Au](http://archiveofourown.org/works/733969/chapters/1364513)
> 
> I don't really wanna delete this but yeah, this won't be updated, the linked version will be!
> 
> \--  
> this au is really taking off and i'm amazed by the support it has ahhh!! seriously, check out all the parts of this AU from other authors too. you can find most of it in [my tag](http://between2devils.tumblr.com/tagged/that-band-au) on tumblr, or the [AU's tag](http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/that-band-au). cesca did this amazing [art](http://yourebossy.tumblr.com/post/43518393935) for it omg it's perfect. and darcy wrote an amazing [thing](http://endversed.tumblr.com/post/44013702307/summary-dean-and-cas-arent-exclusive-and-dean) set in the future of band au verse!
> 
> anyway thanks for all the support, we're all determined to make this the best supernatural band au there ever was (p.s. there aren't enough)

When he wakes up, Dean really wishes it wasn't midday on a Thursday. 

He's hungover to hell and back and feels like he's taken an axe to the skull, not mention various aches and pains in every major muscle in his body, but at least he's in Cas' bed. 

His _bed_. Because apparently that's a thing they do now. They're no longer limited to rutting on the couch in Dean's basement, or blowjobs in dirty bathroom stalls, or quick fucks on dressing room tables. Now they allow themselves an actual bedroom with a thick mattress and cotton sheets and fluffed pillows. 

After last night's show they'd all gone out for a few drinks at a bar down the street, which inevitably turned into a lot of drinks at lot more bars. They cleared out at some crazy hour of the morning, after Cas had gotten up on the bar to sing along to the jukebox and Benny somehow managed to remove a sink from the bathroom wall. That's about all that Dean remembers - along with the clumsy, energetic sex he and Cas had once they stumbled inside. 

And Dean is feeling the after-effects now: the ringing in his ears, heavy eyelids, and dried come on his stomach from passing out on top of Cas. But it doesn't matter, not really; because there's sunlight seeping in through the blinds and Cas is curled into his chest and breathing quietly.  

So it's understandable that Dean wishes this were a Sunday morning, or any other time when he doesn't have to drag his ass out of bed and get to work. Why would he want to be serving coffee and muffins all afternoon when he's got Cas right here, a solid weight in his arms as he shifts to press closer. Dean runs a hand down Cas' back and kisses his forehead through a mess of hair. Which is definitely not sentimental. At all.

Dean is about to pull away and get up, but Cas grabs his arm and wraps it back around himself without even bothering to open his eyes. A affectionate smile finds its way to Dean's lips as he watches Cas squeeze his eyes shut tighter, clearly trying to fight the light of the room and go back to sleep. 

"Cas," Dean whines, "I have to go to work now."

"Call in sick," he mumbles against Dean's skin, and he chuckles at Cas' groggy voice.

"This isn't high school, I can't just ditch when I don't feel like going." 

"Wouldn't know, I never skipped class."

Dean rolls his eyes and squeezes his arm tighter around Cas' waist. " _Of course_ you didn't," he teases, but there's an easy fondness in his tone that has Cas' teeth nipping at his collarbone. "But not all of us get to work cushy jobs at the library with flexible hours."

Dean feels Cas' smile more than he sees it, and it almost keeps him from getting up. _Almost_ , but not quite. The thought of Benny - or worse, his boss - calling up to scold his tardiness is enough to get him shifting gears. He waits until he thinks Cas has dozed off again before he slips away, crossing the room to the dresser on the opposite wall. He snags a pair of Cas' clean underwear from the drawer, because Dean assumes that he's entitled to hygiene privileges after all the things Cas has let him do to him. 

Dean is just stepping into his jeans and fastening the buttons when he realises Cas is awake again. He's propped up on his elbows and squinting at Dean with sleepy eyes and hair sticking out at all angles. He's pouting his lips ever so slightly, watching as Dean comes near him to grab his shirt from the floor by the bed. 

"Just get back into bed already," Cas grumbles, and the order would be so hot if it weren't for how damn adorable Cas looks like that. He reaches out and latches onto Dean's belt buckle, before he yanks him down to the mattress. 

Dean sighs dramatically and shakes his head. "Quit it." 

Only Cas does the opposite, his fingers slowly sliding upwards against Dean's stomach, coming to rest just above his navel before dipping back down again. He has his lip between his teeth as he mimics Dean, shaking his head slowly. 

There's a loud voice in the back of Dean's head that tells him to forget work and slot between Cas' limbs again instead. Except he really does need this job, otherwise he'll end up sleeping on Victor's scratchy couch again until the band picks up. So he tells himself, _no more than some brief making out, keep your hands to yourself, Winchester._

Clearly, Dean forgets that Cas' hands are capable of just as much mischief, demonstrated by the way he's touching Dean _everywhere_. His palms rubbing across every surface he can reach, fingertips stroking over his neck, then shoulders, and then a nipple. Dean sits down on the bed properly and twists around to meet Cas' mouth, his lips dry and chapped and jaw roughened by stubble. 

Cas pulls back slightly. "You have hangover breath." 

Dean whacks him on the arm and frowns. "You're no bed of roses either." 

So okay, they're both pretty gross, and Dean can live with that for now. It's a minor inconvenience compared to Cas' hot hands on his chest, pulling at his shoulders as he kisses Dean lazily with pliant lips and a content hum. 

Quite frankly, Dean is scared by how easy and naturally this comes. To wake up with Cas and push his fingers through his hair. To close his eyes and kiss Cas, the flutter of his eyelashes across his own cheek, a warm buzz rising through his bones. It's scary because this doesn't seem like Just Fucking. Is there a difference between Just Fucking and Friends With Benefits? He hopes so, because the idea of this becoming _more_ , he can't even entertain it. There are so many variables, too many ways for it to end up in flames. 

In his fleeting fear, Dean's lips have stilled against Cas'. And maybe there's a hint in the way Cas lets him breathe shakily into his mouth. His fingers are on Dean's jaw, then cupping his cheek as Dean moves into the touch. 

"Stay." 

Dean wants to.

 _Fuck_ , does he want to. He wants to lick into Cas' mouth until he's boneless and needy, legs parted for Dean to rest between. He wants to fuck Cas into the mattress at an achingly slow pace, have him choking out half-sobs and whimpering, stretching out the kinks of last night like a cat. He wants to hold Cas against his chest and go back to sleep. He wants to be held against Cas' chest, secure and comforted under his soft kisses and contrastingly strong hands. 

But he can't. That's a whole can of worms he doesn't need to pop the lid on right now. 

So he answers with a bite and tug on Cas' bottom lip, before he pulls away and stands up again. 

Dean takes a moment to stare openly at Cas. He could write songs about this. How Cas is laid out before him, sheets twisted around his hips to expose a litany of angry red marks marring his skin. He would need an entire verse to convey the rush he feels when Cas wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue. Another verse for the faint bruises on his wrists. A refrain about the clearness of his eyes in the morning light. Chorus dedicated to the dirty mouth Dean gave him, and the dirtier things he loves to hear. It's a song that would sit ignored, crumpled at the back of his top drawer and at home with all the other lyrics that are too embarrassing to acknowledge. 

Cas is staring back at him, and it reminds Dean that he needs to start moving. He picks his shirt up again and sniffs it. Cas snorts when Dean gags and tosses it across the room. "I can't go to work smelling like a homeless musician with a drinking problem.” 

He feels oddly accomplished at the small upturn of lips Cas gives him. 

"Can I borrow something?" 

"Yes."

It's only fair. Cas has a whole collection of Dean's clothes. T-shirts from sophomore year, faded hoodies from his college years, the jeans he wore to his first concert. It's disgustingly endearing, and usually leaves Dean wanting to fuck him senseless.

The thing about Cas though, is that he has an interesting mix of everything. Music taste, DVDs, books, and clothes. He shows up in those fucking leather pants one day, and then wears a wonky bow tie and pie-themed socks the next. So when Dean picks up the first thing he sees he doesn't give it a second thought, because Cas is pretty good as distracting him with filthy kisses and edging the sheets further down his body.

It's only when he finally gets to the coffee shop and sees Benny behind the counter, that he realises his error. And apparently it's enough for Benny to spill milk all over his hand.

"What is _that_?" He asks, eyes disbelieving and a laugh hiding in the back of his throat. 

Dean looks down at Cas' knitted fair isle sweater and chokes on his own spit. It's soft and comfy as hell, but definitely not something Benny has ever seen him wear. Or any other human being, for that matter. 

" _Nothing_." 

Benny doesn't comment on the defensive nature of his snap, but he does give him the stink-eye for the next hour. 

Dean finds himself resenting the fact that business is extremely slow today, because all he can think about is what he could be doing with Cas in bed right now. What he really _needs_ is a busy rush of customers all in a hurry to keep his mind off it, and what he definitely doesn't expect is Cas stepping through the door instead. 

There's no line, and Cas strolls up to the counter looking freshly showered and dressed. Dean makes no effort to hide his bright grin, and is leaning over the countertop before he can stop himself.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, as if a guy can't go for coffee at the place a block away from his apartment. 

He hopes he’s not imagining the pink flush on Cas' cheeks. 

"I thought I'd drop by before my shift starts." 

Benny hasn't said a word, is just standing next to Dean and watching the exchange with curiosity as he wipes down trays.  

"So, uh, you want tea?" Dean asks, and it's embarrassing that he knows Cas would rather drink tea than coffee in the afternoon. Benny's hand slows, and he's definitely listening intently now.  

If Cas notices anything weird he doesn't mention it, only nods and rests his elbows on the counter. "Something fruity. You choose." 

Dean goes to the display where they keep all the fancy teabags, and picks up the new raspberry and jasmine one they just ordered in. He vaguely hears Cas and Benny talking while he brews it, and he expects Cas to hang around once he hands his mug over, but he goes to sit at a small table instead.  

This is when Benny turns on him, a fire in his eyes that Dean is one hundred per cent worried about. He's just glad Victor isn't here to feed off whatever's fuelling Benny, because together they are a terrifying pair.  

"So, what'd you do after you put me in that cab last night?" Benny asks, all false innocence and nonchalance. 

"I just, uh, hung out with Cas for a while." 

Benny waits a beat, then comes right out with it. "Did you _fuck_ Cas?" 

Dean knows his face and ears are burning up at an alarming rate, but his mouth hangs open like a fish and he's not sure what to say to wriggle himself out of it. All the same, his silence serves as a confirmation for Benny. 

"Are you guys _dating_?" He presses, and clearly that seems to be a worse offence than the first.  

"No!" Dean splutters, because they're not. They're _not_.  

"I can't believe you slept with the singer of our band - you are shameless, I don't even know how you live with yourself, bro." Benny scrunches his face up and peers back at Cas, then Dean again. 

"Look, there's nothing messy about this, it's totally fine!" Dean says, finally remembering how to formulate actual words. 

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure you're practically married already, and you don't even know it."

Benny moves away to greet a customer with an easy smile, leaving Dean planted to the floor and possibly more confused than he's ever been in his life.


End file.
